


A Stucky Fluff Thread For Your Soul

by lord_sharktopus



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But mostly fluff, Fluff, Give Steve and Bucky a Break 2k18, I just want them to be happy, M/M, maybe a little angst here and there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lord_sharktopus/pseuds/lord_sharktopus
Summary: I'm doing this because a friend told me I should make a collection of all my random fluffy Stucky ficlets I write at 3 AM. And because I believe Steve and Bucky deserve a Phat Break™. So I'm giving them one. Via my pipe-dream brainchildren.





	1. Say You Won't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me I've never posted anything I've written, please let me know if it's totally shitty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the train, except this time Bucky's there. Steve has anxiety about it, but Bucky's right there to calm his nerves. Yes, I know the title is cheesy. And maybe a bit misleading. This is an angst-free place where nobody stays sad, I promise.

Everything was okay. Everything was fine, Bucky was okay. But he almost hadn’t been. If Steve had been any slower, if he hadn’t reacted when he did-

He did not want to think about that. Bucky was fine, he was safe with Steve and the rest of the Howlies, he didn’t need to worry about it anymore. But the bar they’d found themselves in was awfully crowded, and Steve couldn’t find Bucky among the sea of strangers, and all Steve wanted to do was to find Bucky and take him back to their hotel room where he couldn’t let him out of his sight. But he also really, really didn’t want to venture into the mass of people in order to do so, and instead opted to remain glued to the wall and panic silently to himself. He’d lost track of Dugan, Morty, Gabe, and Jacques ages ago, but he hadn’t just saved any of them from what would’ve been certain death only hours ago, and none of them were Bucky. Steve really didn’t know how Bucky wanted to be doing anything other than sleeping for days after what had happened, but Bucky’d always had different ways of dealing with things, Steve supposed.

Logically, Steve knew Bucky wasn’t far, he was probably dancing with some faceless dame somewhere on the packed dance floor, but it was understandable that after coming within seconds of losing him for good, Steve wouldn’t want to let Bucky out of his sight for a while. Maybe he could just suck it up and go into the crowd to find him-

“Steve?” Steve turned his head to his right and and let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding at the sight of his Bucky standing next to him, perfectly safe. His hair was messy and the dim, yellow-orange glow of the lights made the thin sheen of sweat that covered Bucky’s face and neck visible. He really was beautiful, even in the shitty lighting and covered in grime from god-knows-what, after the day he’d had. He barely resisted the urge to press himself against the body in front of him and hold onto it for as long as he could manage.

“Bucky…” Steve mumbled, voice getting lost in the noise of their surroundings. But Bucky, ever understanding of Steve’s Steve-ness as he was, didn’t need the helpless plea of a word to understand. He put a gentle hand on Steve’s left arm, the same hand Steve had grasped onto so tightly to keep his Bucky from falling, and leaned in closer so Steve could hear him.

“It’s ok, Stevie. I’m safe, you saved me, yeah? I’m ok.” He said gently, his tone of voice calm and comforting against the slew of panicked thoughts in Steve’s head. Said thoughts had dulled from an insistent stream of worry to the occasional fleeting doubt that maybe he hadn’t caught him, and maybe this was just a hallucination he was having because he simply couldn’t comprehend a world without Bucky in it. Again, Bucky’s voice brought him from his thoughts. “Let’s get out of here. Go back to the room. Quieter there.” He stated simply, tugging gently on Steve’s arm where his hand had not left from, and leading him out of the hall.

*******

Steve was sat on the slightly-nicer-than-a-cot bed on his side of the room. It was funny, how similar the room was to theirs back in Brooklyn. The layout was almost identical, a small bed in each corner, each paired with a small night table, a lamp for lighting and an empty closet by the door. The only real differences were in the slightly cleaner, more decorated appearance of this room, and the little table with a small radio on it, because French hotels decidedly had more money than two orphans in Brooklyn, New York in the 1930s.

He picked at the threadbare sheets, unsure of what to say now that he and Bucky were alone. The wood floors creaked under Bucky’s weight as he stood up from his own bed to come sit by Steve. Steve jumped slightly as he felt a tentative hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Buck. I’m sorry I made you leave so soon, I know you were havin’ fun.” Steve mumbled. Bucky shifted closer so he could wrap his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“None of that matters if my best guy ain’t havin’ any.” Bucky said, matter-of-factly. “I don’t mind one bit, comin’ back here with ya. ‘Sides, I never did get to teach you how to dance now, did I?” Oh god, Steve had hoped bucky had forgotten about that. “Yeah, I told ya before we went and got ourselves into all this that I’d teach ya.” He got up to turn up the radio, and beckoned to Steve to follow him. Steve recognized the song that was playing, recognized the rhythmic and upbeat brass tune. There’d been a band, one night, at one of the dance halls Bucky dragged him out to, and he remembered them playing it.

“Buck…” Steve said, unsure.

“Come on, punk, you don’t gotta be nervous, it’s just a couple’a steps. Real simple. Get up, I’ll show ya.” Bucky threw him a classic James Buchanan Barnes smile, and damn it, if Steve wouldn’t follow that smile anywhere. Even if it meant going to war and having some crazy experiment tested on him, jumping out of planes and clinging onto the sides of trains hundreds of feet in the air in the Swiss Alps, Steve would absolutely follow Bucky anywhere if it meant he still got to see that smile. Hell, if he hadn’t caught Bucky, he probably would’ve jumped right after him. He could manage a dance. Steve slowly stood up and walked over to where Bucky was standing in the center of the room. “There ya go. Let’s try to have some fun, yeah?”

“Okay, so, um. What do I-” Steve stuttered, not knowing what to do with his hands and just hovering them over Bucky’s shoulders. He’d seen Bucky with some of his dames back home, and they’d usually have their hands on his shoulders, or sometimes around his neck once they got a few dances in, but Steve was bigger now so he didn’t know if he should be the one leading or-

“Stevie, stop thinkin’ so much. S’ just me.” Bucky said with a gentle smile, pulling Steve’s hands down onto his shoulders. Steve’s body was rigid and he didn’t know where to look, and now Bucky’s hands were on his waist, and that was definitely something he would remember. “Relax. Look at me. Nobody else here to prove anything to, Stevie. Just me.” Bucky repeated, and Steve relaxed his muscles slightly.

“Bucky, I-” Steve had apparently forgotten what it mean to be a captain, what it meant to lead, because in that moment he knew less about what came next than any one of Bucky’s dames.

“ _Steve_ , it’s _fine_ , doll. I’ll lead, you just do what I do.” Bucky smiled and Steve let out a breath, which quickly caught in his throat as Bucky’s hands suddenly settled on his waist, just like with the dames. Steve tried not to think as he let Bucky guide his movements. He paid attention to the way Bucky moved so smoothly, moving gracefully with the music, because of course he would, having practiced these actions and much more complicated ones a hundred times over, and tried his best to imitate it. Without overthinking. One step forward, two steps back. Left, right, simple. Like Bucky said. Don’t think.

But apparently, not thinking wasn’t Steve’s strong suit, because, try as he might, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to his insecurities. Wrong step there, too many steps there, he was definitely doing this wrong. God, he was _Captain America_ for pete’s sake, and he couldn’t even dance right. Of course, this train of thought couldn’t get any better, and he should probably stop, but _fuck_ , now he was thinking about trains, and thinking about trains was definitely not what he needed to be doing right now, not after-

“Steve? Hey, what’s wrong?” He came back to himself and realized that not only had he and Bucky stopped moving completely, but Bucky was looking at him with sad eyes and his face drawn into a concerned expression. Steve realized then that he’d started to cry, at some point, and he opened his mouth to apologize, but the words got stuck somewhere in his throat and nothing came out.

Instead, he threw his arms around his friend and pulled them together, as close as they could get. He vaguely registered Bucky’s surprised noise as he took a step back to adjust his balance for having 200+ pounds of super-soldier suddenly draped over him, and then the arms that softly wrapped around his torso. Steve buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, not caring at all if he was now much larger than Bucky, because in that moment he felt no larger than the hundred-pound, five-foot-two ball of spitfire he’d been not long ago. Bucky let out a soft chuckle.

“Okay, Stevie.” Steve could hear the fondness in his voice as he settled into the hug. Then Steve realized that the song playing on the radio was no longer the upbeat brass tune from before, but a softer, more melodic jazz song, and without entirely realizing what he was doing, he started to sway them back and forth. He heard Bucky let out a contented sound and then felt as he pressed his forehead against the side of Steve’s head, which was still pressed in between his neck and shoulder.

They stayed that way, gently rocking back and forth in a not-really-dance, until long after the song ended and a slightly faster but still considerably mellow song started playing. Steve lifted his head and looked at Bucky with slightly red-rimmed eyes, to which Bucky gave a gentle smile.

“Hey, pal. You back with me, now?” Bucky nearly whispered, not wanting to break the mood by being too loud. Steve nodded, but didn’t let go of Bucky as he started to speak.

“You scared me, Buck… I thought, I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were gonna fall and I’d never see you again and I- Bucky, I don’t know what I’d do if-” He was cut off by Bucky’s lips pressed against his, gentle but insistent, like he was trying to will away Steve’s morbid thoughts with his actions. When they pulled apart, Bucky looked almost scared for a fleeting second before recognizing the look on Steve’s face as one of surprised adoration.

They’d never done _that_ , before. Not with how frowned upon it was, to be _queer_ , to be _fairies_. That kind of thing could get you into serious trouble, and it wasn’t like Steve looked particularly manly to begin with. But, Steve thought, there was always _something_ there, ever since they were old enough to start understanding feelings like that, that had been different than what two friends felt for each other. Friends didn’t usually want to be wrapped up in each others’ arms until they absolutely had to move, or share beds just because they wanted the closeness during the night.

But it had never been something they’d explicitly discussed, always passing off their atypical behavior as a result of Steve’s ailments, like it was something they needed to do, for Steve’s sake. Which was true, Steve was less likely to get sick if they slept together in the winter, because the extra body heat certainly kept him warmer than their threadbare bedding, but Steve thought they’d both in some way known that that wasn’t the only reason.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Stevie?” Bucky said, hand coming up to the side of Steve’s face and bringing him out of his thoughts for what felt like the hundredth time that night, though this time they were much gentler, less angry thoughts.

“You. Us. Before all this, before the serum and the war, and how…” He trailed off for a second. Bucky raised an eyebrow. “How we’d act like there was nothing there, but I knew… I knew.” Bucky smiled.

“I know. Me too.” He said, and kissed Steve again. “Now come lay down. My legs are gettin’ tired just standin’ here like this, and I think we’ve both had a long day.” He took Steve by the hand and tugged him over to his bed, which was definitely too small for two men of their size, but in that moment neither one cared. They ended up in a position where Bucky was pressed against the wall and even still, Steve was lying mostly on top of him in order to fit them both on the bed. But Steve only wrapped his arms around Bucky and rested his head on his shoulder, and in return Bucky placed his right arm across Steve’s back, and carded his left hand through Steve’s short blonde hair.

“Love you, Buck.” Steve mumbled, already half asleep. Bucky smiled, placing a gentle kiss to the top of Steve’s head and leaving his face there, pressed into Steve’s hair.

“Love you too, Stevie.”


	2. Until Our Ribs Can Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little soft pre-war Stucky based off a lyric from Ribs by Lorde. These are ending up longer than I mean for them to be but oh well.

**_Sharing beds like little kids_ **

“Stevie, come on. Please just come over here? You’re gonna freeze to death over there.” Bucky all but whined. It was cold as hell in their apartment, because it was cold as hell in New York and their already lukewarm-at-best heating had gone out, _again_.

Which meant that they had to make do with the minimal supply of blankets and clothing they had, and to say that supply was limited would be an understatement. This wasn’t as much of a problem for Bucky as it was for Steve, because Bucky wasn’t a 100lb asthmatic with an immune system that was already weak without the cold worsening the affair. So, Bucky had tossed on a sweater and called it good, then tried to give Steve his blankets which, of course, Steve refused, claiming that he’d be fine with just his. Bucky knew better.

“Bucky, I’m f- fine, I already t- told you I’ll be ok.” Steve mumbled from under the scratchy wool that covered him. He had almost his whole body covered from head to toe and was still shivering, yet there he was claiming he was fine. Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh.

The two were situated in their respective beds, because it was dark out now and they no longer had the sun to stave of the worst of the cold. They’d started the night out wrapped up in their blankets, huddled together on the couch, but once Bucky felt Steve start to shiver consistently beside him, he’d suggested they go to their room, because beds would be slightly warmer than the couch, and even he was starting to feel the frigid air seeping through the layers at that point.

Bucky had been trying to convince Steve to get into bed with him for almost half an hour. But Steve, on par with his ever-stubborn ways, had adamantly refused each time he was asked. He’d never really had any sense of self-preservation, always wanting to prove that he could handle things, that he wasn’t _weak_. Though Bucky didn’t know why he still felt self-conscious about things like sharing a bed with Bucky, they’d done it so often when they were kids. On nights like this where it was almost unbearably cold, or when they were at Steve’s house where there was only one bed and neither one would let the other sleep on the floor, they’d just climb into bed together. But that was before they got older, before they reached the age where people started to spare a second glance at two boys in one bed. Before Bucky started to _feel things_. That didn’t mean they’d stopped doing it, but it was definitely a less common occurrence than before.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want you gettin’ yourself sick just ‘cause you were so thick headed.” Bucky was just about ready to get up and climb into Steve’s bed if he didn’t comply soon. Then he heard Steve let out a long sigh and saw the pile of fabric shift until he could see most of Steve’s upper half. Steve turned to face him with an exasperated look on his face.

“Fine, I’ll come over there. But only ‘cause you’ll worry yourself sick if I don’t.” Steve grumbled, shiver momentarily dissipating as he moved to gather his blankets. Bucky smiled and didn’t mention the slight hitch in Steve’s breath that could be heard as he stood up, the cold reaching his thin frame in places it hadn’t been a moment ago.

Steve spread his quilt atop Bucky’s, then tried not to seem too eager as he slipped underneath them, into the tiny space that Bucky wasn’t taking up on the bed.

Bucky sighed at the feeling of Steve beside him, both out of relief that he’d given in and done as Bucky had asked, and because of the simple familiarity of it. Bucky liked to think about the times when they were kids, when Steve was sick or got too cold, and Bucky would wordlessly crawl into bed with him, wrap his arms around his friend just because he could. It was easier, back then, before they were old enough to understand how the real world worked and why they wouldn’t always be able to be so close. He missed the simplicity of it.

And Bucky knew Steve missed it, too, because on the rarest of occasions, usually when Steve was stuck in his own head, sometimes about Sarah, sometimes when he was sick or after a particularly nasty fight, Steve would let Bucky do just that: crawl into bed with him, pull him close, because sometimes they both needed a reminder that not everything had to change.

**_Laugh until our ribs can touch_ **

Bucky looked at Steve’s face, blue-lipped and cheeks ruddy from the cold, his expression cross as he started up at Bucky. Bucky could tell he was hiding a smile.

“Happy now, jerk?” Steve said, failing to keep his smile hidden any longer. That was another thing Steve had never been good at: pretending to be angry. He’d always crack and start to giggle every time he tried it, and that had been the case for as long as Bucky had known him. He grinned and a tiny hint of a giggle escaped him, to which he blushed and looked down at the bed between them. This, Bucky found absolutely adorable, but of course he couldn’t say that out loud, so instead, he smirked and said,

“I don’t know, but it looks like you are. Punk.” Steve blushed darker, turning away, but clearly still smiling. “Warmer over here, yeah?” Bucky poked Steve in the ribs, knowing he was ticklish there. As expected, Steve jolted back, eyes flying wide open as he let out a surprised “ _Bucky_!”

“What? I didn’t do nothin’.” Bucky just laughed and poked at his ribs a couple more times, eliciting a sharp laugh from Steve, who tried to squirm away from the touch, but was unable to do so due to the small space they were confined to.

“Stop! Bucky, stop, you jerk!” Steve shouted through his incessant laughter. Bucky was really laughing now, too, shifting over Steve so he could attack both of his sides. Steve pushed at Bucky’s hands and wrists in attempt to lessen the contact, but Bucky only increased the pressure, Steve’s small frame having little to rival Bucky’s strength with.

“I’m just tryin’ to distract ya.” Bucky said as innocently as he could, as soon as he stopped laughing long enough to get a word in. He thought the smirk on his face would probably give away the act, though.

Then, without warning, Steve wriggled a bit too far and slid off the bed, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor of their room. They both went silent for a second, Bucky worrying that he’d hurt Steve, which was the last thing he wanted to do, but then a grin broke out on Steve’s face and he started to chuckle. Soon it turned into a full-blown laugh, and then Bucky joined in, and both of them were laughing like they used to when they were young, Steve still laying sprawled on the floor and Bucky up on the bed, clutching his stomach at the sudden hilarity of the situation. They were laughing so hard that Bucky actually started to worry it might cause Steve’s asthma to act up.

“Alright, jerk, shove over. Forgot how cold it was out here.” Steve said as the last of his laughter died out, a visible shudder running over him as he stood up, and _Oh, right, the cold_. _The whole reason they’d been where they were in the first place_. Bucky slid back against the wall and held the covers up so Steve could get back underneath. Once both of them were settled again, propped up on their elbows and facing each other, Steve smiled up at him. Then he sighed and let his forehead fall against Bucky's chest. Bucky tried not to let the hitch in his breathing be too obvious at the sudden contact, and on instinct his hand came up to rest on Steve’s rib cage, just under his arm.

“Hey, Stevie, you alright?” Bucky asked, again concerned for his friend.

**_But that will never be enough._ **

“That hurt, you know.” Steve said, muffled by the angle, and Bucky would’ve been asking 20 questions to gauge his injuries, but his tone was still light, so Bucky knew he was just teasing. Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make ya fall. Promise.” Bucky said anyway, still feeling bad for having made Steve fall off the bed and figuring that even if Steve was just teasing, there was probably still some truth to his words. He should’ve been more careful.

“S’ fine. I’m just teasin’, Buck.” Steve mumbled. His words were a little slurred, likely because he was feeling the after effects of the ordeal. The sudden drop in adrenaline was hitting Bucky, too, and he was starting to feel a little tired himself. And his arm was starting to fall asleep, but he stayed where he was for a minute, because Steve seemed content to just rest his head against Bucky’s chest, and Bucky wasn’t going to ruin his moment of calm so he could lie down. He looked at his Stevie beside him, pressed up against his front and looking more vulnerable here than he’d ever trust anyone else to see him, and thinking how on earth no dame could want him, and then that maybe that was okay, because Bucky liked being the only one that got to see Steve at his most vulnerable. Girls always took one look at his stature and passed him up, and yeah, he was small for a guy, but that was one of the things Bucky liked best about him. He fit under Bucky’s arm just right, his head the perfect height to tuck under his chin when they hugged.

Then, drowsily and with a contented sigh, Steve lifted his head from Bucky’s chest, looking up at him through those unfairly long eyelashes.

“Hey, Buck?” He said, not teasing, but genuine and almost hesitant, like there was more weight to what would follow.

And with that, the mood had suddenly shifted. Not drastically, but the air around them suddenly felt more compact, more focused on them and only them.

“Yeah, Stevie?” Bucky’s hand, he realized, was still on Steve’s rib cage. Steve blushed again, a pink tinge coloring his pale cheeks.

“I think. I think I’m still a little cold.” Steve mumbled, a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but it was hesitant and a little bit scared. Bucky knew that face. That was the face Steve got when he didn’t know how someone would respond to something. Bucky had a feeling he knew what it was he wanted to get out of saying what he’d said, so it made sense that he might hesitate. Except that it didn’t, because Steve should know better by now than to have doubts that Bucky would deny him anything.

“Well we can’t have that, now can we? Don’t want ya gettin’ sick, gotta keep you warm.” Bucky continued the vaguely suggestive narrative Steve had created, wrapping his arm further around Steve’s back and shifting so he was laying down, then tugging Steve closer to him so his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, his small frame draped across Bucky’s larger one. He placed his other hand at the nape of Steve’s neck, rubbing his thumb absently over the knobbly joints of his spine.

God, he never thought he’d get to have this. Steve, in his arms, allowing Bucky to hold him like this, it was. It was something out of a dream.

 _I love him_. Bucky thought. He’d thought it a hundred times before, but this time it felt different. Less like a fantastic hope, or a guilty secret. _I love him, I love him_. It felt safe.

“You’re thinkin’ real loud up there, Buck. Somethin’ wrong?” He felt Steve tense up in his arms, like he was ready to get up and go back to his bed if he’d made Bucky uncomfortable, which Bucky knew is exactly what he was thinking. Bucky instinctively tightened his grip around the smaller boy as reassurance.

“No, doll. Nothin’s wrong. ‘M just perfect.” He sighed, smiling lovingly down at Steve, and he noticeably relaxed in his arms, nosing along Bucky’s jawline and then pressing a gentle kiss right underneath it.

“Good. Me, too.” Steve said decisively, laying his head back down. Bucky kissed his forehead lightly in return, keeping his lips there.

“Not cold anymore?” Bucky wondered absently after a minute, lips still pressed against Steve’s head. And then Steve made a quick movement, lifting his head up before Bucky had time to react and fitting his mouth against Bucky’s. He pulled back and gave Bucky a sheepish smile, which Bucky thought was far too cute.

“No, Buck. ‘M not cold anymore.” He pecked Bucky on the lips once more before laying back down on Bucky’s chest. Bucky smiled to himself before shutting his eyes to finally get some sleep.


End file.
